


Amnesia

by padabear, Sunshinelollipopsandmisha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Destiel - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padabear/pseuds/padabear, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshinelollipopsandmisha/pseuds/Sunshinelollipopsandmisha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Dean Winchester's eyes, true love does exist. So, when his lover, Castiel Novak, experiences a traumatic event and is put into a long-term coma, Dean believes he can cure his beloved by retelling him their love story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You may not rewrite this story on other apps, claim this story as yours, etc. I hope you all enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently editing fic! Will post next chapter soon!

**San Diego, California**

**March 29th, 2014**

**( PRESENT )**

Each tick of the clock seemed like a long, hard year. A year filled with repetitive reminders that things would get better. A year that you'd help quicken by crossing out days on the calendar, eventually turning the calendar into a tic-tac-toe board. A year Dean wanted to end. Dean's mind was a silent void of hurt as he looked upon his lover's face. It had been a week since Dean saw the Prussian blue eyes that he adored so much, and each day that he didn't see them tore him up a little inside. He leaned forward, placing a kiss upon Cas' eyelid as if it would rush them into opening. It didn't. They remained closed and slightly sunken in.

Dean then brushed his thumb along Cas' sharp jaw, slowly remembering how he used to caress it with his lips in the light of the morning. He also recalled a book his mother had read to him when she was still alive. It was the story of Sleeping Beauty. Now, as Dean remembered it, the princess had been put into a deep sleep by a curse that could only be awoken by a kiss from her true love. Dean knew he was a tad too old to be believing in fairy tales, but at this period of time, he was desperate. He had already tried kissing Cas, but he received nothing more than a stir. He had another idea, though. An idea that could only work if it was true love. Dean brushed some of Cas' jet black hair out of his face, speaking softly.

"Cas, darling. I don't know if you can hear me right now, but I really need you to." Dean leaned over, burying his face in Cas' bicep, his voice a whisper now. "Remember how we met, babe? Remember the cute, little coffee shop on the corner of Meddleton Road? Remember the first time our eyes connected?"

 

**San Diego, California**

**February 14th, 2013**

It was a bright Sunday morning and Dean was not in his usual I-could-totally-have-a-threesome mood. This would be the second Valentine's Day that he would be alone. As much as he loved having crazy nights with slightly drunken women, he still felt empty. As he laid in bed deciding on what he would make of another holiday alone, his phone vibrated from his bedside table repeatedly. With groggy movement, he picked it up and read the message he received. His eyes took a moment to adjust, for he had woken up only seconds earlier. Usually, he needed his glasses to read words as small as the text on his phone, but considering his body wasn't even remotely awake enough to get his glasses from the bathroom, he decided to deal with straining. He sat up to get a better view of the message and realized it was from his friend, Meg. She was probably the only woman he hadn't hooked up with and, honestly, he was a tad relieved. The message read:

**Dean, Cuppa's is having a valentine's day sale, but I need a boyfriend to get my clearanced coffee:(**

**Hurry up and get here, or I'll tell Sam you watch gay porn. ;)**

**-Meg**

**xoxox**

Dean sighed, unsure of what he was afraid of most. His brother finding out he had a thing for men ( which he was still unsure of ), or getting out of bed. After deciding he'd wait for his brother to find out about his slight homosexuality, he climbed out of bed with a pained groan. His knees ached from staying in the same position all night, his bones making him feel as if he was over the age of seventy. He then switched his navy blue plaid pajama pants for some blue jeans, and pulled on a simple black collared shirt. 

Soon, he was out of his very cozy apartment and onto the very busy San Diego streets. He didn't care if his hair was slightly ruffled, or if he smelled of sweaty man's morning breath. He had given up on love years ago, which made him careless when it came to physical appearance. His mother also once said, " _you'll know when you know."_  And so far, every person he's dated hasn't been the one, or else he'd still be with them. Whilst walking on the San Diego streets, he began to realize that love wasn't everywhere, which he, surprisingly, was expecting. There were a few single-looking looking people, too. You could tell by how sunken their eyes looked, the way they stared ahead of them blankly, and the way some of them glared upon the happy couples, who were nothing but smiles and warmth. It made Dean even more bitter. Soon, he eventually reached the best coffee shop in town. Cuppas. As Dean expected, it was crowded. The sale was 50% off for coffees to valentine couples.

After a while, Dean spotted Meg's unique black hair and pale skin, giving her a small smile when she spotted him. She jogged over to him, immediately clinging to his arm when she reached him. Her eyes shone with excitement, as if the fact that she was single on Valentine's Day didn't bother her. 

"I already ordered us two coffees. The cashier put up a bitch fit, saying I wasn't with someone, but I told her that you were running late. So, she'll need to see you at the register."

Dean waved nonchalantly in response, walking over to the register with Meg. The cashier was a frisky looking woman, with large breasts that seemed as if they were only an inch away from falling out of her shirt. Honestly, Dean couldn't help but stare.

When the cashier looked him over, she gaped. 

"He's ya boyfriend?" Her accent was a thick Boston one, making her more overwhelmingly attractive. "Guy's standards are so low these days." 

And her sexual appeal went away just like that. 

"Alright, lady. You serve coffee, not comments." Dean snatched his coffee as he glared her down, turning away from her abruptly. "And at least her heart's bigger than your breasts'll ever be." 

Dean could practically hear her mouth fall, and Meg gave a heartwarming giggle. 

"Thanks, Deano."

Dean nodded, taking a sip of his muchly needed coffee. Considering how tired he was, the coffee was like drinking a cup of cocoa on a cold, winter's day. He couldn't help but make a satisfied grunt.

"Easy there, tiger." Meg teased, bumping Dean's arm just a bit. "Also, could you get me some napkins? My coffee's lid wasn't on right, and it's dripping a bit."

Reluctantly, Dean nodded and walked over to the stand containing forks, spoons, napkins, and straws. Considering he was busy sipping his heavenly cup of joe, he didn't see the man heading his way. Dean bumped into another, prompting him to spill his coffee all over the other's shirt. The man hissed and dropped his beverage, causing a huge mess. 

"Crap," was all Dean said at first. He looked at the large pool of coffee that was spreading all over the brown, tile floors. 

"Oh my, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to-"  His words halted when Dean looked up to meet his gaze, and during that moment, the world stopped. It grew darker, the only ambiance coming from around him. His Prussian blue eyes became hypnotizing spirals, and for a second, Dean couldn't help, but stare. Then, the man smiled and everything returned to normal. Dean blinked and cleared his throat, embarrassed of how long he had been frozen. After a few moments, Dean realized the man was talking.

"Helloooooo? Are you deaf or something?"

Dean couldn't speak, so he shook his head.

"Well, then give me your name, stranger. You owe me a coffee." The man's eyes remained focused on Dean, staring him down like a zoo exhibit.

Dean fixed himself, standing up straight before replying.

"Err, sorry. Name's Dean."

"Well,  _Dean_. You owe me a coffee." He nodded towards the counter. Dean nodded rapidly, still at a loss for words for some unknown reason. 

"Um, I don't have any cash..- Sorry, I..err, don't believe I got your name."

"My name is Cas, short for Castiel. Yes, I know it's strange." Cas eyed Dean for a moment, a smirk tugging at his lips before he pulled out a small piece of paper that had a number written upon it. "Here," He said, passing Dean the paper. "Call me when you're ready to buy me a coffee." And with that, he left.

All Dean could do was stare at the small, ,messy digits written on the piece of paper, unsure of how to react. 

Soon, Meg bounced over to Dean and looked over his shoulder at the paper. "Ooh, get somebody's number, pretty boy?"

Dean shook his head, throwing her a scowl. 

"No," His voice was coarse and shaky, which surprised himself. "Some man just said I owed him a coffee."

Meg snorted, patting Dean on the back. "Dean, no one gives out their number for coffee." Meg pulled him out of Cuppa's, away from prying ears. "Dean, he gave you his number because, y'know," She looked down towards Dean's fun parts. "He wants you."

Dean became flustered at the thought, shaking his head immediately. "No...No, he just met me. He.."

Meg laughed, walking across the street as she shouted over her shoulder, "Fine, don't believe me. It'll cost you a good night, though!"

And Dean decided to take her word for it.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been six hours. It had been six hours since Cas had given Dean his number, and honestly, Dean was still unsure of what to do. He was back at his small, one room apartment, fiddling with the small piece of paper that Cas had so calmly given him. The handwriting on the paper was that kind you'd only see in movies--neat, with a messy form to it.

Dean placed the piece of paper on the coffee table and leaned back on his ragged, leather couch, studying the small note with great intensity. What if Meg had been teasing him? What if he called Cas and Cas laughed at him? 'You really thought I wanted you to call me? You're a fucking loser.' Is what Cas might say. He was, in fact, a loser. He didn't have a job ( he didn't really need one, considering his inheritance from his parents was big enough to live off of ), he hadn't been in a relationship for quite a while, he didn't have many friends, and his sexuality was like trying to figure out large Rubik's Cube.

Dean was petrified of this turning out horribly, but he yearned for some true romantic company on Valentine's Day, despite his recent misfortune in relationships. Like, if this had been one big joke, Dean would learn his lesson, but for now, he would take the risk. He picked up the small piece of paper, whose ends were a bit crinkled now. He pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed the number slowly, taking heavy breaths. He had never been so nervous about a guy before. Why was this man different? Cas didn't really look different from any other guy he had seen. Well, kinda.

Cas had dark, dark hair with piercing blue eyes, eyes that metal could melt within. He also had had various tattoos occupying his arms, and probably other parts of his body too. Private parts, maybe. Dean shook his head, his face suddenly hot from picturing such..inappropriate things. Three rings later and a hoarse voice answered.

"Joe's Crematorium, you stab 'em, we grill 'em."

Dean's blanched, his body stiffening as if he had just walked into negative degree weather. Had Cas given him a false number? Had Cas given him the wrong number to get revenge? Before Dean hung up, the voice spoke again."Nah, I'm shittin' ya. Cas here. May I ask who's callin'?"

Dean couldn't speak, for the sound of Cas' voice was like listening to a hit single from your favorite band. Weird simile, but it described Dean's emotions perfectly. For a moment, there was complete silence.

"Taking this silence into consideration, I'm guessin' that this is Deaf Dean eh?" Dean blinked, his voice returning upon hearing his nickname.

"Deaf..Dean?"

Cas snorted, and Dean heard him scratch at his very memorable stubble. "How'd I know. And yeah, Deaf Dean. It's the nickname I gave ya. Fits you well, eh?"

Dean gulped, forcing out a laugh. "Yeah, it fits alright. Uhm, do you-"

 Cas interrupted him, sounding as if he was wearing a shit-eating grin. "Yeah, just give me your place's location."

Dean furrowed his brow, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "How'd you know what I was gonna ask you to come over"

"It was a gut feeling. Now, address."

With slight hesitation, Dean told him his address, and sooner or later, they hung up. Dean fell back onto the couch, beads of sweat forming at his temples in excessive amounts.

"I really hope this turns out well," Dean muttered to himself, getting off his couch as the sudden realization that someone was actually coming over. He needed to get ready. The only problem was that he didn't know what to wear. He didn't even know if this was gonna be an informal or formal date. He didn't even know if it was a date.

He jogged into his bedroom, which was filthy. His navy blue curtains were ripped in various places, dirty clothes were strewn across the bed and floor, and stains of who-knows-what occupied the walls. He ripped the curtains from his window and stuffed them under his bed, threw the dirty clothes in the hamper, and moved his posters of Kurt Cobain to cover the stains on the wall. After another 20 minutes, his room looked semi-decent and he was dressed in a nice white tee. He couldn't go wrong with a plain shirt. It was formal and informal at the same time.

He then walked out of his room to prepare two glasses of wine, but to his surprise, Cas was in his kitchen, already helping himself to a large serving. Dean blinked repeatedly, unsure of how to react. When Cas noticed Dean staring, he smiled and took a sip of the wine before saying, "Your door was unlocked, so I let myself in."

He took another sip, and Dean watched his Adam's apple bob. He was wearing a black button up shirt with the top button loose, and black, ripped jeans, with his some of hair gelled back in a casual fashion. Dean soon snapped out of his daze and walked up to his kitchen counter, shakily pouring himself a glass.

"Y'know, it's always nice to knock. I mean, what if I thought you were a burglar and I was armed? I could have injured you." Dean said, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass before bringing the beverage to his chapped lips. Cas snorted, placing his glass down. He walked over to Dean, his face only inches from his.

"Dean, do you really think that a man like you would be armed? Plus, you'd never hurt this face." Cas bit his lip, as if he was trying to be as seductive as possible. Dean's face became warm and he took a step back, not trusting himself to be that close to another man. _Yet_.

"You never know." Dean cleared his throat after a moment, and Cas went back to drinking his wine with a bored expression. "So, how are-" Cas held up his hand, continuing to drink his wine.

Dean furrowed his brow, eying Cas confusedly. What a rude guy. After Cas finished his drink, he wiped his mouth and exhaled a satisfied breath.

"Now," he began. "If you're trying to break the ice by making small talk, it won't work."

Dean swallowed, turning a nice shade of red. "What? It won't?"

Cas shook his head, going over to the couch and plopping himself down onto it, legs spread out widely. "Nope. Too traditional, too boring. I like to spark things up a bit."

Dean raised a brow, following him. "How?" He sat down next to Cas, but made sure to keep a reasonable distance between them. Cas smirked, leaning further into the couch's arm, but keeping Dean's gaze. "Strip dare."


End file.
